<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>You Can Devastate My Personal Space (I Never Liked It Anyway) by Meova</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118618">You Can Devastate My Personal Space (I Never Liked It Anyway)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meova/pseuds/Meova'>Meova</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Formula 1 RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Failboats In Love, M/M, Seb invites Charles over and they get drunk and talk, Seb's a cuddly drunk, winterbreak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:55:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,787</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118618</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meova/pseuds/Meova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles doesn't know why Sebastian has invited him over during the winterbreak. He might as well go to end their time as teammates on a good note, a final hurrah. It's not his fault if the alcohol loosens his tongue, or makes him feel things he'd tried real hard to ignore for the past two years.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charles Leclerc/Sebastian Vettel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>97</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You Can Devastate My Personal Space (I Never Liked It Anyway)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is legit the longest thing I've written in years. I started working on this to get extra words for NaNoWriMo, so the word count and probably a lot more things kind of make sense... And after extensive rewriting I figured I'd just toss this up before I'd go insane and none of the words made sense anymore. I promise <a href="https://nanowrimo.org/">NaNoWriMo</a> is fun and doesn't just lead to misery! Anyway, I can think of more excuses, but I also kinda just wanted to write drunk sebchal and see where that went.</p><p>Usual disclaimers: none of this is real, if you found this by Googling yourself do yourself a favour and just delete your internet history, don't share this outside of fandom spaces. I believe y'all know the drill. Title's from Powerless by Waterparks.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">All Charles has to do is ring the bell. His overnight bag is getting heavier by the minute and he doesn’t dare to put it down, scared the bottles of wine in it will break. He could put it down when he’s inside Sebastian’s house. He could also put it down when he inevitably gives up and runs away, he’s not even sure why Sebastian invited him over to his place, but here he is anyway.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The bell is right there, taunting him. Instead of ringing it, Charles pulls out his phone. Thumbs over to the messages, opens the chat with Sebastian. Yes, there it is, the invitation, his flight details, Sebastian’s confirmation that he got all of that, he’d have dinner ready. He’s pretty sure Sebastian invited him intentionally. He’s just not sure why he would want to.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He hoists his bag further up his shoulder, the bottles clinking together. The sound scares him a little. He rings the bell before anything will actually break.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">(Whether his mind or the bottles would go first is anyone’s guess.)</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The door opens before he can convince himself that there’s still time to run away.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Charles! So glad you made it! Did you have a safe trip?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles’ heart is still in his throat, but he’s used to that. He’s worked for years to be able to give acceptable answers through that and even smile prettily while he does it. He follows Sebastian inside, feeling slightly less skittish with the chatter filling his head, and if it sounds a little like nervous chatter it’s probably just his brain messing with him again.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘So I know I said I’d have dinner prepared, but I just wanted to check. Are you hungry? You probably are after all that traveling, but maybe you’re tired. It can keep for a while if you are.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles tries to make sense of the words that tumble out of Sebastian’s mouth. It’s been a while since he’d seen the other man anything less than confident. Maybe Charles was just imagining things, like he’d imagined the friendship they’d built up during the two seasons as teammates.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Oh, you probably want to relax in your room first. Want me to show you?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘No, dinner is fine, I’m starving.’ Charles’ media training kicks in, including the winning smile that everyone fawns over, but Sebastian’s not even looking. He puts down the bag, rummages through it to get at the bottles. ‘I don’t know what you made but I’m sure one of these will pair good with it,’ and he feels like a dork saying it, but Sebastian smiles and it’s not that bad, really.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I’m sure you have good taste,’ Sebastian winks and Charles tries to fight his blush. He just asked at the store what wines were good, but he would never admit to that. He doesn’t drink wine unless forced. He’s sure Sebastian knows all of this anyway.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">They sit down for dinner after Charles has dumped his bag in the guest room and threw some water on his face, trying to freshen up at least a little. Sebastian makes a few jokes about how good the white wine Charles brought pairs with the food. Charles is pretty sure it’s not even his bottle. It does taste good, though, and he’s downed his glass before he realizes.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sebastian motions with the bottle whether Charles wants another. Charles pushes his glass towards Sebastian, watches as a few splashes make their way out of the bottle, filling his glass about halfway. Sebastian throws back his own half-full glass in one swallow and pushes his chair back.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I’ll get another bottle, if you don’t mind. Unless you want something else?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles shakes his head. Sebastian’s not gone for long before he’s back already with another bottle of wine Charles doesn’t recognize. Maybe he brought bad wine. Maybe he shouldn’t have bothered anyway, if he was going to fail so badly.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He really shouldn’t have come.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sebastian’s filled his glass and Charles drains half of it again within seconds. Oh, there’s the lightheadedness he might have been chasing. He should probably stop drinking away his nerves. His tongue should feel heavy, but it’s looser. He wants to talk. He’s still sober enough to keep his mouth shut. Maybe he should go anyway.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘So this was lovely,’ Charles starts, waving his hand in the general direction of the bits and pieces left on his plate, ‘but I think I’m getting tired...’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘You think you’re getting tired?’ Sebastian repeats, and Charles is already wishing he hadn’t even tried to make up an excuse. ‘That’s a new one. But I guess you youngsters need your beauty sleep...’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Hey!’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I mean, unless you want to look like me when you’re old.’ Sebastian sighs exaggerated, winks at Charles.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles has a lot of things he wants to reply, mostly about how he doesn’t need beauty sleep and he’d love to look as good as Sebastian when he’s old, but he bites his tongue and just raises his eyebrows.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Alright, let’s go, we’ll sit in the other room. I’ll let you have the couch just in case you fall asleep. But I’m going to have to put on some good music, or else you’ll forget what that sounds like.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles rolls his eyes, but takes Sebastian’s offered hand to get up from the chair. He doesn’t realize how much he needs it until he bashes his hip against the table when he’s getting up.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">It doesn’t even really hurt (just his ego, really) but he still limps a little as he moves past Sebastian, through the door, sitting down on the couch and pulling out his phone.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Are you sure you don’t need me to put on music? It might help you if you have to do more music challenges next year,’ Charles teases, ignoring the little pang those words caused. He’ll get used to it.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He forgot his glass, still decently full for now, but Sebastian has grabbed both of them and hands his over. Charles chugs it. He probably shouldn’t.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I’ll put on that Senorita song you enjoy so much,’ Sebastian grins.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘How do you still remember that? That was over a year ago!’ Charles buries his face in his hands as that song starts playing. ‘Do you even have it on CD?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘No, why?’ Sebastian’s still messing around with his own phone, eyebrows pulled together in concentration.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘How are you playing music then?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Just from Spotify, like you guys...’ That’s when Sebastian looks up and realizes Charles is poking fun at him. ‘Oh, you think you’re funny, huh? Do you even know what a CD is?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Luckily, the song changes to something else. Charles doesn’t recognize it. He’s fine with that. They exchange small talk while the music keeps playing, chatting about the upcoming holidays, their plans for the winter break, Monaco. Eventually, Sebastian mentions the weather and Charles has to stop the groan in his throat, the pleasant tipsy feeling fading into awkwardness again. He holds out his glass for more wine.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘You know where the bottle is, right?’ Sebastian says as he’s leaning over the table to grab it, topping up both their glasses.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I’m a guest here,’ Charles replies. ‘Where did you leave mine, anyway?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘They’re in the kitchen. I didn’t think you were going to like them, mister I-don’t-drink-wine, so I thought I would pick something else.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles isn’t sure whether he should feel flattered about Sebastian’s thoughtfulness or embarrassed that he actually remembers Charles doesn’t like wine usually. He should’ve brought tequila. He would’ve already forgotten this evening if he had.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘This is just not fair, you remember everything you ever heard. I don’t even know why they made me do those challenges with you, you win every time!’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Hey, that’s not true,’ Sebastian says, putting down his (half-empty already) glass. ‘You won a few. You won the jenga, the music challenge...’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘No you won the music challenge, don’t you remember?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Yeah, the first one, but we had to do it again this year. They gave you a partner so you had a chance.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘And I won it?’ Charles still barely remembers it. They’d done too many of those challenge videos. If he was honest, he was usually trying not to be too sore of a loser and to actually focus on the game, instead of Sebastian.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Yes, you did. It was a good job.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He’s definitely not preening at those words.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">They’re silent for a little while. Charles is eyeing the bottle of wine again. It still tastes decent. Maybe he should ask Sebastian what it is, so he could get it for himself next time. If he ever needed a reminder of their time together and an instant memory wipe, too.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘So,’ Charles says, just to fill the silence. ‘How are you feeling about next year? I would have liked to see you in that beautiful pink, but maybe you got lucky.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sebastian sighs, runs his hand through his hair.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Maybe we shouldn’t talk about next year yet,’ he says. ‘We can do that tomorrow. Today, I don’t want to think about it yet.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles doesn’t know what that means. He knows a few things that he wants it to mean, though. He keeps his mouth shut by taking another sip of wine, emptying the glass. The bottle’s empty, too, as he picks it up, so he gets up himself and walks to where he thinks the kitchen is.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sure enough, it is the kitchen, but he doesn’t see any wine. Except for his bottles, but he’s not going to open them now, after Sebastian already said he wouldn’t like them. He trusts Sebastian.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He’s also going to stop that particular train of thought right there.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Are you sure you want more wine?’ Charles almost jumps as he hears Sebastian behind him. ‘You’ve been drinking a lot.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘You have too,’ Charles points out.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Well yeah, but I was teammates with Kimi for a while. If you don’t get drunk by just standing near him, you’re good to go.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles giggles. Fucking giggles. Maybe Sebastian is right. He’s not in the mood to give him that, though, so he starts opening cupboards to find where the rest of the wine is.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sebastian grabs his wineglass, runs it under the tap, hands it back when it’s filled with water.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Drink that and I’ll go find another bottle. You could’ve told me you wanted to get drunk tonight, I would’ve bought more. Or something stronger. Wait...’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles is left in the kitchen, clutching his glass of water, as the German turns around (was that a wobble Charles spotted? Probably not. Why was he so good at everything?) and walks away briskly. Okay, no, Sebastian was definitely a little off-balance, Charles can’t help but notice as he steadies himself with a hand against the wall.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">As Sebastian is off doing… whatever, he doesn’t really remember, Charles has all the time in the world. At least a few minutes. His hand automatically going to his pocket, grabbing his phone, but before he’s unlocked it, it’s already back in his jeans. He kind of just wants to look around. He’s seen glimpses of Sebastian’s personal life, but he’d never been in his home.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He’s just trying to imagine Sebastian cooking their dinner tonight (in the most non-creepy way possible) when he’s back, carrying a bottle of vodka.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Kimi gives me vodka all the time, I knew I had some lying around. I’m sure you’d enjoy drinking this more.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">It’s not like Charles enjoys the actual taste more. It’ll get him drunk enough a hell of a lot faster than wine, though, and although he does still like this wine he’s also fully aware that they’ve finished like two bottles in two hours and that’s a lot of alcohol for what’s supposed to be a pleasant goodbye to his old teammate.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sebastian’s found some shot glasses in the meantime, lined them up on the counter and filled them up. Charles tries to pick one up, but Sebastian slaps his hand away, pinning it down onto the counter when Charles tries again.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘You’ve got to finish your water first. And we’re not finishing this whole bottle either, so don’t get any ideas.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Why?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Because I said so. Now chug it.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">It’s surprisingly surreal to hear those words come from Sebastian’s mouth. Charles is glad he wasn’t drinking yet.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Fine. I will ‘chug it’. If you never say that again.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles reaches awkwardly for his glass with his left hand, his right still under Sebastian’s, the pressure light but unmistakable and he doesn’t even consider pulling away. The water goes down easier than the wine, and maybe this had been a good idea.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Good. Now you can have the drink.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles just goes for it, always better if he doesn’t think about it. He feels the blood rush to his cheeks and further up into his brain. He wants to go for another, but Sebastian might actually tell him off for that and that’s the last thing he wants, so he just puts the glass down and licks his lips, a small drop of the vodka left there.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He’s sure he’s imagining Sebastian staring at him. Still, he does actually take his own moment to just look at Sebastian as he’s taking the shot, watches him swallow. He’s not thinking about how his cheeks grow a little hotter. He’s not sure he’s thinking at all.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sebastian eventually releases his hand to collect the bottle and the glasses and walk back to the living room, looking behind him to see if Charles is coming.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He is. He just needs a moment.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">They’re both back on the couch without major incidents and Sebastian places the drinks out of Charles’ reach.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The music’s still playing. Charles still doesn’t recognize it. He motions in Sebastian’s general direction, wanting his phone so he can look up what he’s playing, but Sebastian doesn’t understand his feeble attempts at communication.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘What are we listening to?’ he eventually asks. Sebastian doesn’t even check his phone.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘It’s the Rolling Stones. Before your time.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He’s not even going to react to the jab at his age. (He might still have the card Sebastian signed for him, with the 23 on it. It’s hidden somewhere safe.) ‘So, now what do we do?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘We could play a game,’ Sebastian says. ‘I’m sure I have something around. Charades? Jenga?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles just glares at Sebastian, who shrugs it off.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘If you have any ideas...’ he gently prompts.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I don’t know… Maybe I have played enough games for this year. How about you pour us another shot and we’ll think about it?’ Charles suggests. Sebastian shrugs, not looking too convinced. ‘We’ll play rock paper scissors. I win, we drink. You win, we… well, you decide.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He agrees. They decide on best of three. Charles loses. Now he really wants another shot.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Luckily Sebastian thinks that’s a good idea too.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Here’s to a new day,’ Sebastian says as he lifts up the glass. Charles looks at the clock and is shocked to find that it’s already a quarter past midnight.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘So,’ he starts, taking the shot and wiping away a stray drop that escaped the corner of his mouth, ‘looking forward to the new team next year?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sebastian seems to be staring in his general direction. Charles can almost feel the intensity of his stare on his skin. Before long, Sebastian visibly shakes himself out of whatever it is, looking Charles in the eye instead.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Maybe we should stick to less loaded questions for now,’ he says. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to do something?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">And the thing is, Charles kind of really just wants to keep talking. He already misses the conversations with Sebastian, the lame jokes and the stupid facts he keeps quizzing Charles on when he never knows the answer. It would only be fitting to let himself indulge one final time.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Why don’t you let me know what those ‘less loaded questions’ are, then?’ Okay, that came out a little sharper than he’d intended. Charles forces his mouth into his media smile. Hopefully Sebastian doesn’t know the difference. ‘What do you want to talk about?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sebastian thinks about it for a little while.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘You know, there is something I was wondering. It was really sweet, don’t get me wrong, but I never thought you’d bring wine. Why’d you do that?’ He’s obviously changing the subject, but that’s fine. It’s still talking.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Seemed like the thing to do,’ Charles shrugs. ‘I hoped you’d like it.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘It’s not that I don’t. I really appreciate it. Just surprised me, that’s all.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles still feels a little stupid for bringing bad wine, if he’s being honest, but if Sebastian likes it, it’s not that bad.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘What should I have brought to be a good guest, then? Some flowers? I can probably pick you some flowers tomorrow,’ Charles jokes.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Oh no, I’m not letting you get lost outside. You’d probably come back with some stinging plants, too, knowing you.’ Sebastian nudges Charles’ calf with his foot, tell-tale smile on his face. Charles tries real hard to not feel stupid, but he can’t stop the nervous chuckles.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Okay, no solo adventures, I got it,’ he replies. ‘But we’re going to have to go outside anyway. You have to show me around. The place looks beautiful.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘It really is,’ Sebastian sighs. ‘I’m hoping there’s some snow tomorrow, that just makes it better. But I’ll show you around if you still want to when you wake up.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The song in the background does a great job at filling in the silence again. Charles wonders if he could sneak the bottle of vodka away from Sebastian so he can get drunker quicker and either forget about any possible awkwardness or forget about this night, period.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He’s probably well on his way to have a massive hangover tomorrow. He’s going to have to get back on an airplane with that, or maybe not if he manages to forget the time while he’s with Sebastian, but he already can’t think of an excuse that would work, and he’s definitely going to have to learn how to turn his brain off on purpose. It usually only happens when Sebastian’s looking at him, or touching him, or...</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Anyway, ask me another question,’ Charles says, blurting out the first words he thinks of, desperate to continue the conversation and stop his mind from rambling.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Hmm. Do you think I’d look good in pink?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles nearly chokes on his own saliva. That wasn’t quite the direction he’d thought that would take.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Depends on what kind of pink,’ he chokes out. Sebastian just winks at him. ‘But I don’t think it would look bad on you.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Very diplomatic answer,’ Sebastian replies. Charles is gnawing on his thumbnail, like there’s any more he can get at without destroying his fingers further. ‘I think it would look good on you, especially. Anyway. It’s not like I will see you in it, so there’s no point talking about it.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">That seems like as good an opening as anything and Charles lets the alcohol encourage him to ask the question that’s been weighing on his mind for too long.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Why did you wait so long to decide?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Decide what?’ Sebastian looks confused. He’s picked up the bottle of vodka again and is running his thumb over the label.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Whether you still wanted to race.’ It feels uncomfortable to say those words. Charles hadn’t really allowed himself to think about it much, about the possibility of Sebastian not being on the grid next year.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Oh. That.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sebastian unscrews the bottle, fills up their glasses. Charles doesn’t reach for his. Sebastian does, but decides against it.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I thought we wouldn’t talk about that today,’ Sebastian says.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘It’s past midnight. It’s tomorrow. You already brought it up, too,’ Charles points out.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">There’s a sigh coming from the other side of the couch. Charles wants to wait it out. His mouth has different ideas.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘If you really don’t want to that’s fine, you know, we can still call it a night or do a proper drinking game or...’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sebastian shakes his head.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘It’s alright. I just didn’t expect you to actually want to know.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Why?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Just like I didn’t expect you to actually show up today.’ Sebastian reaches over to put his hand on Charles’ thigh, squeezes it once before letting go again. ‘But here you are. And you asked. Twice. So I guess you deserve an answer.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He rubs the back of his neck, scratches his chin, the sound loud in the silent room. The music had gotten turned off at some point, Charles presumes.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I wanted to do it for the right reasons,’ Sebastian says, after a few seconds. ‘It’s been a very strange year. I had to make sure I wanted to race, just for racing. Not to have to prove anything or whatever.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘But you have nothing left to prove.’ Charles doesn’t quite get it. He can’t imagine not wanting to race, tries to imagine it but instinctively recoils from the big hole he feels, the nothingness that would consume his life.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘No, no, I have everything to prove. Everyone does. Hell, even Lewis does, still. I just didn’t want that to be the main reason.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘You have nothing to prove for me,’ Charles says, reaching out to run his hand over Sebastian’s arm before realizing that it’s a bad idea and he’s probably going to fall over if he actually does that. Instead, he grabs on to the back of the couch, curling up against the cushions there.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sebastian sits back, crosses his legs, ankle on his knee. Charles has seen him sit like that forever, or at least it feels like forever. He’s not sure why it’s endearing.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Anyway. That’s it, really. Nothing more to add, I guess.’ There’s still a small frown playing between Sebastian’s eyebrows, like he’s still not sure he’s doing the right thing.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">There’s another silence, too loud for Charles’ liking. He doesn’t want to stop talking about this, having run through too many scenarios in his head over the past few months. He also doesn’t want to keep talking about this. Sebastian’s staying and that’s what really matters.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Maybe he really shouldn’t have come. He’d hoped there was something here, something to build a proper friendship on, especially now that they wouldn’t see each other every single race week and random days in between, when they were expected to be at Maranello. But even now, when it seemed like they were opening up, there was the sudden clamming up and he doesn’t know why.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Eventually, Sebastian’s the one to break the silence.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Why did you want to know?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles doesn’t let himself think about the answer too much. Thinking has never been his strong point, anyway, and the vodka is definitely making it even harder.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I was scared I wouldn’t see you on the grid anymore. You would’ve just disappeared. Like you were never there.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Well I probably would have stayed around...’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Are you sure?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">That shuts Sebastian up and answers Charles’ question.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I know we’ve had some… moments,’ Charles continues, ‘and I know it hasn’t always been easy, but I like it when you’re there. You made me feel at home at Ferrari. And your jokes are a specific kind of awful that I don’t think anyone could repeat.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">That startles a laugh out of Sebastian. Charles feels himself preening a little at making Sebastian laugh.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘You could’ve told me this before the end of the season,’ Sebastian says. ‘We could’ve...’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘What was the point? You’re leaving anyway. Nothing I could do about that.’ Charles sighs. He doesn’t really want to think about this, either. It’s still nagging in his brain, though, and while they’re still talking about it, he might as well push his luck.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Would you really have disappeared?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Honestly, I… don’t know. I didn’t think so.’ Sebastian’s not looking at Charles, staring in the distance instead. Charles can’t read the expression on his face. ‘But you made me actually think about it now, not just play with the idea. And I think it might have happened that way, anyway.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I’m glad you’re not leaving,’ Charles says quietly. He leans over, inhibitions fully gone now with the added relief coursing through his body, and puts his hand on Sebastian’s knee, squeezing a little. Sebastian smiles at him. It looks a bit shaky. It’s still a smile. Charles will take it.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Me too.’ Sebastian places his hand over Charles’, their fingers intertwining a little. They sit like that for a little, both lost in thoughts. Charles keeps trying to imagine how next year is going to go. He’s gone through the scenarios where Sebastian left for months now and they’re still the ones that come up immediately. He mentally inserts Sebastian in every single one of them. To be fair, he’s picturing him in that hideous pink just to make himself feel a little better.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Do you want a hug?’ Sebastian asks suddenly, the words rushing out of his mouth.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘What?’ Charles is sure he heard that wrong. His thoughts had been spiraling again, the weight of Sebastian’s hand only making him more aware that he probably should not have said quite so much. He’s sure Sebastian’s going to make fun of him in the morning, even though Sebastian has always been nice to him. He probably read too much into that niceness. Maybe he shouldn’t…</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘A hug. You know. I kind of want a hug and you always look like you need one.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles reaches for the unattended bottle of vodka while he pretends to think about it, realizes a few seconds too late that the glasses are still full. He never forgets alcohol. He’s fully blaming Sebastian for this.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He knows he should probably protest, but he would usually like a hug, really. Especially from Sebastian, whose bear hugs he hasn’t had many times, but always leave him feeling comfortable, safe, more inside his own body than usual. He hands one of the shots to Sebastian and they clink the glasses together before downing them.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Yeah, okay,’ Charles shrugs, moving over to throw himself bodily onto Sebastian when the glasses have been safely put on the table again, liquid courage once again making him braver than he normally is. He hears the breath leave Sebastian’s lungs with an oof before Sebastian gets his bearings and wraps his arms around Charles, who sneaks his arms around Sebastian’s waist.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sebastian is actually pretty soft and comfortable. Charles decides to use his shoulder as a pillow. His eyes start falling closed soon after.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Hey. Charles.’ Sebastian shakes him after a few minutes, disturbing Charles out of a little doze. ‘Maybe you should go to bed.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘’m not tired,’ Charles yawns. He squeezes Sebastian a little tighter. Sebastian’s arms are still around him, so it can’t be that bad.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Right.’ Sebastian’s still not making him move. Charles counts it as a win. He’d kind of like another shot, just to keep this going, but that would require getting up, and while he’s absolutely fine right now with the direction things have taken, he doesn’t want to give Sebastian time to think about it. Then again, a shot would definitely help with that, too.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He’s also definitely pretty drunk right now, so his judgment might be totally off. It’s a risk he’s willing to take at the moment.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Eventually (Charles’ eyes might have closed again on their own accord), Sebastian does start to sit up. Charles does not whine, thank you very much, but he will admit to clinging a little harder until Sebastian tells him he’s just turning on the television. Charles lets him get up then, sitting up just enough himself to swipe the vodka and take a swig from the bottle.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sebastian settles for some movie. It looks flashy enough that Charles doesn’t complain. As Sebastian sits back down, he takes the vodka from Charles and drinks from it himself, putting the bottle far out of reach when he’s done.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘That’s it for the alcohol today,’ he says.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘We’re saving that for tomorrow?’ Charles asks hopefully.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sebastian chuckles. ‘Maybe. We’ll see how you feel in the morning.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I’m gonna be fine.’ Charles is already yawning again. If he focuses on something, he’s not quite so tired. He wishes Sebastian would sit down already.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Finally, Sebastian does. He sits in the corner of the couch again, swings his legs back on the couch (narrowly missing Charles in the process), and Charles takes it as the invitation it could never be and tries to tuck himself into Sebastian’s side. He flops down very gracefully instead, if he may say so himself, and he feels the resulting chuckle rumble in his chest as arms are wrapped around him again, pulling him closer. Sebastian pushes himself down a little more, grabs a pillow for his head, and Charles shifts until they’re flush together again.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The movie’s still playing on the television. Charles can’t say he knows what it’s about. He’d been able to focus on it for ten whole seconds before Sebastian’s hands started traveling, one of them eventually winding up playing with his hair, the other settling on his hip, thumb slowly stroking the strip of skin just above his jeans, and Charles was only human.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘You know,’ Sebastian says after another while, the only giveaway that he had been drinking the same amount the slight slurring of his voice, ‘if we’re talking anyway, is there anything else you’d like to know?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Like what?’ Charles’ brain had shut down somewhere along the line. He’ll never let that stop him.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘About next year, maybe. Or why I’m apparently a comfortable pillow.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Who says you’re that comfortable?’ Charles replies, looking up at him through his eyelashes. Sebastian’s hand in his hair moves down to cup the back of his neck and Charles is very much torn between wanting to lean into it or push himself up.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘You falling asleep on me would indicate that, but I guess you’re still used to hotel and motorhome beds.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He knows Sebastian is joking, but Charles still has to swallow the urge to give a serious answer. He kind of wants him to know that it’s probably the most comfortable Charles has been all year.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Can we just go to sleep here?’ Charles asks, instead of any of the other options that had been going around in his head. This probably wasn’t the best one to pick. He still doesn’t want to get up, unwilling to break the moment.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘We would wake up very sore tomorrow,’ Sebastian replies. ‘So no. I will help you to the guest room once you want to get up.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Can’t I sleep in your bed? With you?’ Charles sounds whinier than he intended to. He’s comfortable, goddammit, and he’s dozed off at least a dozen times in the last hour or so, every twitch from Sebastian sending him into wakefulness again, but just the fact that it didn’t take hours for him to fall asleep makes him unwilling to let go.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Oh so you don’t want to hold my hand in the paddock, but you want to sleep together now?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles gathers the energy he still has to lift up his head and look at Sebastian.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Not like you ever tried to hold my hand,’ he replies. It’s just a statement, a simple fact, but he sees the slight curl on Sebastian’s lips disappear. Charles wants to reach out and touch, try to bring the smile back.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He’s always hated seeing Sebastian’s smile disappear.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I’ll just help you to the guest room,’ Sebastian repeats. He sits up, Charles sliding off of him. Sebastian grabs at his own head while Charles barely catches himself before he rolls off the couch.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Change of plans. You go upstairs, I get us painkillers and water for tomorrow. Deal?’ Sebastian doesn’t wait for Charles’ response, just pushes himself up and extends a hand out, pulling him up as well. Charles stumbles, just managing to not faceplant into Sebastian’s chest.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles would like to respond, but before he’s figured out what words are again and in what order they should go, Sebastian’s disappeared. Instead, Charles makes his way upstairs, one step at a time so he’ll actually make it.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He opens a door at random. It’s not a bedroom. The second door he tries does lead to one and he lets himself inside, falls down on the bed and buries his face in the pillows. It smells like Sebastian.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘You know this is my room, right?’ Sebastian says, startling Charles. In hindsight, it does make sense. He’s not moving another inch, though, and tells Sebastian exactly that, who then responds by throwing Charles’ overnight bag on the bed a few moments later. When Charles lifts his head, there’s two glasses of water and a packet of painkillers on the nightstand next to him. He’s suddenly thirsty and finishes one of the two glasses.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Do you need an alarm set for tomorrow?’ Sebastian asks.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘No, why?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I just thought… You never said how long you planned on staying.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">To be honest, Charles had fully intended to fly back the next day. He’d booked a ticket for the early afternoon, thinking it’d give him enough time for a decent farewell but not enough to make things awkward. He hadn’t counted on them getting blindingly drunk or having an actual enjoyable night. He thought he’d be polite, finish their time together in a proper way, and ignore every stray thought about Sebastian for the rest of his life.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘We’ll talk about it in the morning,’ Charles says, reaching out to where he thinks Sebastian is. His hand just encounters air.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I’m not sure you’re going to be able to talk in the morning.’ And that’s more like the Sebastian he knows. Charles wriggles his way out of his clothes, tosses them and his bag to the side, and buries himself underneath the blankets. Sebastian joins him a little while later, on the far side of the bed. Charles slowly scoots over until he can feel the warmth of Sebastian’s body.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘This is the worst idea,’ Sebastian says, but still turns around and throws an arm over Charles’ waist.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I will go downstairs and finish the rest of the vodka if you don’t stop that,’ Charles mumbles, curling up further.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Stop what?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles wants to sink back into Sebastian’s embrace like earlier, on the couch, but Sebastian’s stiff as a plank now, even his arm mostly hovering over Charles’ waist instead of curling around it like he’s been doing it forever.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Stop thinking so much.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘One of us has to.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I can’t believe you still can, mate.’ Charles chooses to not take the bait, thank you very much. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to get the bottle, to fix that?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Just go to sleep, Charles.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘No.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘What?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Instead of answering – he has a feeling they could keep this up for a while and he is not in the mood – Charles turns around until he’s facing Sebastian, closing the space between them until their bodies are pressed up against each other. It’s not very comfortable, he’s lying awkwardly on one arm and the other’s still trying to squeeze between Sebastian’s arm and his waist, but he can bury his face in the soft skin just below his throat and that makes it worth it.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sebastian sighs. He’s still not helping Charles curl up with him in any way. He’s also not pushing him away, though, and that’ll do for now. Charles wouldn’t even have tried if he hadn’t seemed so much more affectionate earlier.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Seb, please,’ he breathes, not daring to disturb the silence too much.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘This is the worst idea,’ Sebastian repeats, but he at least lets Charles fit himself back into the nooks of his body he’d taken up before.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I told you to stop that.’ Charles barely holds back a yawn. His body really wants to go to sleep, but he’s determined to get to the bottom of this, whatever this is. He just wants the easy familiarity between them back.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I told you to sleep in the guest room but you’re not listening either.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">And Charles is just so tired, that’s going to be his excuse, that and the metric fuckton they’ve drank today and the fact that Sebastian is <em>really fucking hot</em>, even when he’s being a dick, and he really doesn’t want to hear any more common sense from him.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The best solution to all of this is to shut him up. Which Charles does, pushing himself up a little so he can press his lips against Sebastian’s. He can feel the vibrations of Sebastian’s resulting groan on his skin and he wants.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">They separate again. Charles licks his lips. There’s a faint aftertaste of vodka and Sebastian. He might be into the combination.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Are you even going to remember any of this in the morning?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">And it could really be wishful thinking, but it almost seems like Sebastian’s voice is wavering, almost straining to remain neutral. What’s definitely not wishful thinking is how Sebastian’s fingers started curling around his waist.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Of course not,’ Charles replies easily. It’s probably true. It’s probably not true. He lost the capability to think hours ago, when he was debating whether he should ring the doorbell or not.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">(He’s really glad he did, in hindsight.)</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Nothing happens for a few moments. Charles’ head is starting to feel heavy, his arm falling asleep.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He thinks he hears a soft ‘fuck it’, feels Sebastian’s hand slide in his hair to tilt his face up, soft lips brushing his own. Charles parts his lips, nips Sebastian’s bottom lip and squeaks in surprise when he wraps his arms fully around him, only to manhandle him until he’s lying on top of Sebastian.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">They exchange chaste kisses for a while, their noses bumping together in a way that should be awkward but just makes Charles feel fuzzy inside. Charles doesn’t know where to leave his hands, he wants to touch everywhere but he’s not even sure if he can. Sebastian doesn’t seem to have the same issues, fingers stroking down Charles’ spine while his other hand is gently cupping the back of his head.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles pulls back a little, opening his eyes so he can look at Sebastian. There’s that small smile curled back around the corners of his mouth, and Charles traces it with his thumb. Sebastian looks at him, too, then, and Charles can’t make sense of the maelstrom of emotions that appear in his eyes so he does the only thing that makes sense. He presses their lips together again (god why had they never done this before), coaxing their mouths open, his tongue curling ever so slightly behind Sebastian’s teeth.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">There’s no mistaking the moan Sebastian tries to hide, or maybe it’s Charles, who even cares at this point, as Sebastian angles his head for a better fit and just decides to take him apart thoroughly by clever swirls of his tongue, biting down ever so gently on Charles’ bottom lip, his hand still on the back of Charles’ neck, not letting him up for breath or to collect his thoughts, it’s just an onslaught on his senses and all Charles can do is try to give as good as he’s getting.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">They make out for a while, until Charles can’t hold back a yawn. There’s a softness when Sebastian looks at him now. Charles tries to commit it to memory.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘We should really get some sleep,’ Sebastian says. Charles wants to protest, but he yawns again and there’s really no point. ‘Are you sure you want to sleep here?’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles doesn’t even dignify that with an answer, just nips at Sebastian’s chin. He is rewarded with a quiet chuckle.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘I’m just checking. I’m not explaining this in the morning.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Good night, Seb,’ Charles says, pulling the blanket around him, his head back on Sebastian’s shoulder.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Sebastian kisses his forehead. Charles presses his lips to whatever bit of his skin is nearest.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">‘Good night, Charles.’</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Charles would lie awake, going through every single way this could play out in the morning, when they would be sober and would probably lose this easy familiarity again. The words he still hasn’t let himself think locked back in his brain, along with the memory of Sebastian’s lips on his.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Instead, he’s out like a light in minutes. The last thing he notices is Sebastian stroking his hand, Charles lacing their fingers together, Sebastian letting him. They’ll deal with the rest in the morning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://meova101.tumblr.com/">Tumblr if you wanna watch me shout into the void</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>